


We Weren't Made for Fairy Tales

by einfach_mich



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/einfach_mich/pseuds/einfach_mich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia Martin may not be a werewolf but that doesn’t mean she's not a monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wrong From The Start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chele681](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chele681/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [geekgirlhope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekgirlhope/gifts).



> This started as a bit of self indulgent PWP. Then my brain decided to shoehorn a plot and Lydia found her voice and shit got real. Read at your own risk.

It doesn’t take a genius to know this wouldn’t end well. Even in a world of monsters and magic what they have is too unusual to last for long. After all, happily ever afters are reserved for heroes and Lydia Martin is anything but a hero. 

Not that it bothered her. Other people could waste their time trying to pretend they were something they were not. Comfortable lies were for cowards. Lydia never saw the point in blinding herself to the truth. Her parents need the lies, the paint and pretty smiles from the darling daughter they wish they had. She played the part for them, because it was easier, but she never lied to herself. Not until now.

It started out, like sex usually does, as a power play. To put that mouthy little bitch, Erica, in her place and secure Lydia’s place in the pack. While she isn’t a wolf, she isn’t some groupie either, and all of those furry fucks need to learn that.

When Jackson left with the alpha pack, she understood why he made that choice. It was better for him. A start fresh, in a group who would give him the power and freedom to be someone else. Jackson was always a prisoner of his own life. The Alpha Pack would give him a second chance to be someone new, someone he might actually like. Lydia knew him well enough, and loved him too much to tell him it was a lie. Deep down, she hoped she was wrong, but she is rare wrong.

Without Jackson, the rest of the pack didn’t know where Lydia fit in the group. After, all there were only two other humans in the group, and they had pretty defined roles. Allison is Scott’s girlfriend, Stiles is his best friend and a connection to the Sheriff’s department. Lydia however...

_“Why are you even here?”_

Erica had been the one to say it, but Lydia could see the question lingering in everyone else’s eyes. She knew what they thought when they looked at her, ever since she’d helped raise Peter. Broken. It was an ugly and misleading word, implying a fundamental flaw and inability to recover from being driven insane by an crazy werewolf ghost.

In reality she’d not only recovered but risen up to be stronger than any of them could imagine. Lydia was used to shortsighted little minds. She had seen this moment coming and already had a plan in place. 

Derek wasn’t all that hard, at first. Surprised and initially resistant, but they always are. Until Lydia begins to talk and that is where she works her magic. Any girl can give a blow job, flash her tits and play the part of a slutty cliche. Lydia’s edge was in knowing the truth behind the lies, understanding why Derek was so guarded. Specifically why he was always so nervous around her. 

_“I may not be a werewolf, but I am a member of this pack.” She paced around him, her heels clicking on the shining, hardwood floor of his new home._

_It wasn’t usually her style to move so much, but she had noticed how repetitive movements, like Stiles’ pacing and drumming on his leg, irritated Derek. It was an easy way to put him on edge, which would make him drop his guard._

_“Calm down.” Derek bristled, grabbing her by the arm and forcing her to stop moving. She looked up into his glowing red eyes and suppressed the urge to smile. He was so easy._

_“Fuck you.” She glared up at him, making it clear in every part of her posture that she wouldn’t be be intimidated by his big bad alpha routine. “How dare you act like you have any right to tell me what to do after you sat there and said nothing, while that little bitch shit on me.”_

_He took a deep breath and let go of her arm. It wasn’t an admission of guilt, but it wasn’t denial of it either. Derek really hated that she was right, that anyone could see through his web of lies and bullshit. He wanted so badly to be the great leader he pretended to be. It was one of his greatest weaknesses._

_“You need me.” One Lydia wasn’t above exploiting._

_His expression softened into a mixture humor and disbelief. “I need you?”_

_“More than you know.” She ran her hand up his chest and hooked her hand around the back of his neck._

_“I’m not interested in replacing Jackson.” Derek shook his head, a smug grin spreading across his lips as he own ego led him to the wrong assumption._

_“Good, because you couldn’t if you tried.” Lydia hooked her nails into his skin, taking a satisfaction in how the color of his eyes flared brighter for a second and the deep growl that reverberated through his chest._

_She dragged her nails down his neck and chest, stopping when she reached the collar of his tank top. Her nails left behind deep scratches that quickly filled with his blood. The seconds ticked by, but the wounds continued to bleed. His skin didn’t knit itself back together, something that only happened to wolves when they were wounded by an alpha. It confirmed something Lydia had suspected for awhile. She might not be a wolf, but she wasn’t wholly human either, and Derek knew it._

_“Like I said, I’m a member of this pack and I deserve respect.” She wiped her bloody fingers on his tank top and moved in closer._

_Derek closed his eyes, breathing slowly, but made no move to attack or even touch her. She could see his hands were trembling, the muscles in his jaw and neck twitched with tension. He was obviously struggling to maintain his control, and succeeding. She wasn’t worried; she knew he would never hurt her. Underneath all the bullshit and bluster, Derek was a good man._

_Lydia sighed, untied the scarf from her neck and gently dabbed at the wounds. “Allison and her father can keep what I am from the other hunters, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t others who would want me. Who could use what I have against you.”_

_“Is that a threat?” He tensed, a glimmer of fear in his dark eyes._

_If they had learned anything from the alpha pack, it was that they had a lot more enemies out there than just the Argents. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Lydia’s immunity could be turned into a weapon to be use it against the pack. She didn’t want it anymore than Derek did and that’s why he needed to see._

_“No, it’s reality.” She forced herself to meet his eyes, to look at him and say the words even though it felt like a show of weakness. “I’m sorry I hurt you, but you needed to understand.”_

_“Understand what?” He wrapped his hand around her wrist, stopping her movements, but not pushing her away._

_“I know you’re afraid.” Lydia reached up with her other hand to touch his cheek, and frowned when he flinched away. “I know you’re a good man and you could be a great leader. If you let me help you.”_

_“How are you going to help me?” Derek’s body sang with tension, like he was about to jump out of his skin, and she knew it wasn’t because she could give him a couple of scratches._

_“Simple,” she sighed, and stepped in closer to wrap her arms around his chest. “By allowing me to be what you don’t want to be.”_

_“And what is that?” Slowly his body relaxed, but she could still sense hesitation in his voice, which was good. He shouldn’t trust her completely. No one should._

_“Dangerous.”_

They stood there in utter silence. She hugged him, and he let her. A bewildered expression on his face, like he wasn’t sure if she was joking or about to bite his face off. Lydia liked that look. It meant he was finally starting to see the truth. 

The sex would come later. It was enough that he allowed her to hold him until his phone rang and broke the moment. She reluctantly released him, and left his house satisfied that she’d begun the ground work. 

She was proved right at the next pack meeting, when Erica spoke up again. Derek didn’t even speak; he merely glared at Erica until she lowered her gaze and then he gave the others a nod for the meeting to continue. Lydia didn’t smile or even acknowledge the exchange. Instead she pretended to check her email on her phone and leaned her head on Stiles’ shoulder, while he chuckled under his breath at the drama.

At the end of the meeting, when she accepted Stiles’ offer of a ride home, she glanced over her shoulder to catch Derek’s eyes on her. The weight in his gaze reassured her that she’d made an impression. He would never look at her the same way again. She smiled at the thought and gave him a wink.

As Stiles steered his jeep onto the main road and talked about getting food, her phone chirped at her. She suppressed a smile when she saw it was from Derek. Grinning in triumph she tapped the screen to open the message.

**Midnight my place.**

He really was so easy.


	2. Practical Animals

There was something so fundamentally undignified about sex. Lydia prided herself on being sophisticated and thoroughly put together, much in the same way Derek clung to his control. They wore their touchstones like cloaks, as much for protection as for appearances, but in these private unguarded moments, all pretenses fell away. 

“Faster,” she mumbled into the bedspread, annoyed by how it was undoubtedly smearing her lipstick and staining the fabric. 

Not that she was about to stop. It felt too good, and they had both been needing this release badly. Instead, she shifted her weight to her arms and tilted her hips to allow him to slide in deeper. 

“Fuck,” Derek groaned, increased the pace of his thrusts. 

They moved together, greedy for their mutual goal. Familiarity allowed them to fuck in relative silence, only the sound of their heavy breathing and slapping skin filling the air. There was an oddly soothing quality to it. Lydia gave herself over to the sounds, feeling the connection, and enjoying the pleasure for what it was without dwelling on how it had begun to complicate their lives.

“Touch me, I’m close.” She shifted, and Derek quickly responded, sliding his hand under her to circle her clit with his fingertip. 

It was all she needed. The orgasm flared through her lower body, causing her to contract around him and send him over the edge with a harsh exhale of air. No matter how many times they had done this it still struck her as funny that Derek insisted on being so quiet during sex, even when he came. 

The giggling started even before he slid out of her and gently laid her on the bed. “You come like an asthmatic butterfly.”

“And you got the front of my jeans wet,” he retorted, disappearing into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and returned to gestured toward the darkened fabric around the zipper of his jeans. “It looks like I pissed myself.”

“Serves you right for being twenty minutes late,” she sighed, rolled off the bed and headed to her vanity to fix her wrecked makeup. “I’ve got to text Stiles to tell him I’m going to be late.”

Lydia stared into the mirror, focused on wiping away the red smudges from around her mouth and pretended to not notice that Derek was standing right behind her. His damp groin filled up the space behind her head in the mirror’s reflection.

“How much longer are you going to string him along?” Derek’s breath brushed her ear and she finally stopped to look at his reflection in the mirror. 

His expression was unreadable, which wasn’t good. He rarely guarded himself around her anymore, not since they started meeting regularly for sex and occasionally to talk privately about pack business. 

Lydia had become his second in command. It was a fairly bloodless coup. There was that time when she broke Isaac’s nose, but he brought that on himself. Really, he was lucky that was all he got for disobeying an order. 

A rogue hunter was running around Beacon Hill. Isaac defied Derek’s orders to guard Stiles and joined the rest of the pack while they were trying to track the hunter. As it turned out, the hunter had mistakenly thought Stiles was a werewolf. The asshole put a bullet in Stiles’ shoulder before Lydia had arrived for their regular study date and cracked open his skull with a fireplace poker. 

She had taken the baseball bat to Isaac’s face, knowing full well how the others would fear and hate her for hurting a pack member. It was done as a preemptive measure; if she allowed Derek to act first Isaac’s injuries would have been ten times worse, or he might have ended up dead. This way the pack appropriately feared her and Derek was spared from having to reveal how deeply affected he was by what happened to Stiles. Or rather how much he cared about the “little smart ass” he pretended to hate. 

That same secret concern was why he was asking questions he had no right to ask. It was why he was trying to pressure her into breaking off whatever it was she had with Stiles. That concern and the fact that it made Derek act out of character worried her more than his out of line question. It was a weakness that the pack couldn’t afford, something she need to fix or it could cause more problems.

“Why do you even care?” She picked up her lipstick and began to carefully apply it, while she watched his reaction out of the corner of her eye.

Derek watched her in silence for a long moment. He often watched her like this while she fixed her makeup after they had sex, or watched her get ready for school on the mornings he stayed over night. It always struck her how much younger he looked in these curious little moments. So unguarded, like a young boy and not a powerful leader. But that was a truth that Lydia had learned a long time ago. All men are scared little boys in need of a strong, reassuring hand to hold them up. Lydia was Derek’s strong hand, but sometimes it was exhausting.

“I’m just worried about how the fallout is going to affect the pack,” he finally replied with a casual shrug that was as affected as it was transparent. “You know, when you finally let him down.”

She laughed lightly and rose from her seat to turn to him, a smirk on her blood red lips. “What makes you think I’m going to let him down?”

Derek’s face fell slightly, and Lydia knew she had him by the short hairs. She grabbed her purse and phone, taking a moment to send Stiles a text. By the time she hit the send and looked up, Derek was gone. The crooked curtain rod hanging over her open window and the angry streak of red lipstick on her bedspread were the only signs of he was ever in her room.


	3. Wheels in Motion

The trouble with Stiles is he makes it seem so easy. He makes you want to believe in the pretty lies. From his sweet smile to sharp sarcastic wit, he is a seductive temptation. Though he is no idealistic idiot. He has known pain and grief, seen the darkness, but somehow it never sticks to him. Stiles isn’t all that different from Lydia or even Derek, with one glaring exception. He still has hope.

“You’re silly,” she sighed, leaning back on her pillow to get a better look at Stiles’ dopey grin. 

He sat up, propping his chin on his hand and continued to blind her with his happiness. “Now that’s a hell of a thing to say.”

She liked the way he looked so out of place in her room. This pastel, post-modern nightmare that was her room felt like another lie. One her mother paid her decorator to make to cover up the blood she’d left everywhere while dreaming about children screaming while they burned alive. 

Sometimes when she closed her eyes she could still hear them and smell their cooking flesh, but not right now. With Stiles smiling at her, and the taste of his Dr. Pepper flavored mouth still on the tip of her tongue all she could feel was almost happy, and that scared her more than the screaming children.

“Well, you’re the one looking like you just got laid and all I did was kiss you.” She relaxed further into the soft embrace of her pillow and watched the color in his cheeks darken. 

“A kiss from Lydia Martin is better than sex,” he said, shifting to lay on his back and put his hands behind his head. “I should know.”

He was still such a boy. How he could be like this, after everything they’d done and seen? It was a kind of gift, one she adored, more than she probably should.

“Oh really? Speaking from experience are you?” She couldn’t help but smile at the look of self satisfaction on his face, it practically made him glow.

“Obviously, we were just kissing or don’t you remember?” He tilted his head toward her and gave her a teasing wink. 

“I meant the sex, smartass.” She leaned closer and flicked the tip of his nose with her finger. 

“Oh that.” He let out an exaggerated huff of laughter and rolled his head away from her, no doubt to cover the blush that was already spread across his face. 

“Yes, that.” She wasn’t going to let him get off that easy. 

He mumbled, but didn’t turn back to face her. All his false bravado was gone. She wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

“No getting cold feet on me now, Stilinski.” She climbed on top of him and straddled his hips.

“Whoa, watch the hardware!” He jerked underneath her, the color of his complexion turning an even darker shade of pink. 

“Not yet, but it’s getting there,” she laughed, moving her hips to emphasize her point, and was rewarded with the an stuttered groan from him.

“Lydia I don’t know if we should-” He was looking everywhere but at her, but she wasn’t going to let him run away her, not anymore. 

“I do; now relax.” She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I want you, Stiles.”

The thing that's different about sex with Stiles, other than the lack of experience, is how he looks at her. No one has looked at her like that since Jackson, and even that was different. To be fair she's never makes eye contact with Derek during sex. Even when they faced each other during sex she kept her eyes shut. She isn't interested seeing the ghosts in his eyes. She has too many of her own already.

With Stiles she feels new and wondrous. There is this glimmer of disbelief and joy in his eyes that looked a lot like tears. It's hard to face that kind of expectation, but he is a teenage boy with a hair trigger so she's not too worried about blowing his mind in bed. No, with Stiles it's never about the simple things. It's about his heart. Silly boy has been trying to give it to her for years and she's resisted. Not out of lack of caring or wanting, but because she knew she would break it. She's never been very good with fragile things like feelings. Lydia Martin may not be a werewolf but that doesn’t mean she wasn't a monster.

“Touch me,” she whispered against his lips, and kissed him to soothe away his doubts. 

He moaned, reaching out a tentative hand to brush over tops of her breasts. Lydia had done most of the work for both of them, opening her top and his jeans. She answered his moan by lightly nipping his bottom lip and dipping her tongue into his mouth. His hand slipped inside her bra and slid his fingers over her hard nipple. A shiver passed through him, and seemed to travel into her, making her anxious to move them along. She had already pulled out his rather impressively large dick and was slowly working it with her hand. 

Stiles was beyond coherent speech, communicating instead in low vowel sounds and desperate gasps for breath. If she didn’t move fast he was going to come in her hand and she wasn’t about to let happen. She shifted her position, grabbed the condom from the nightstand and began to roll it on.

“This is really happening,” Stiles mumbled, almost as if he hadn't realized he had said it aloud.

Lydia gave him a soft kiss on the small patch of exposed skin below his belly button, delighting in how it made him shudder and his dick twitch. “Yes it is.”

She slid off her panties and straddled his hips, raising herself up to position him. He touched her cheek with a trembling hand and she looked up to see his eyes were wide with that same frightened disbelief. The sight made her feel powerful and a little a evil, but most of all it turned her on. 

“Can you feel me?” She grasped his dick, moving the head over her clit and traced the edge of her pussy, teasing them both with the sensation.

Stiles’ head fell back, his Adam’s apple bounced beneath the thin skin of his neck and he let out a low sigh before finally speaking. “Fuck yes.” 

She slowly sank down onto him, enjoying the slight pinching burn sensation. He was almost too big, but she was managing to make him fit. Stiles was too sweet, too good not to hurt her a little bit. Once he was all the way in she shifted her hips to change the angle and let out a gasp at the overwhelming pleasure it sent through her body. Stiles groaned and grabbed her arms, like he was clinging to a life preserver. 

He was drowning in the sensation, she was too and it was greedy of her to not help him. She shook herself slightly and put her palms on his chest. They couldn’t afford for her to get lost in the moment.

“Stiles, look at me,” she pleaded softly, hoping that seeing her wouldn’t overstimulate him and end it for him.

He opened his eyes, let out a slow breath and then tilted his head forward to look at her. His mouth was open, but no sound came out, but that was fine. They didn’t need to talk. She just need him to stay with her, and keep her from losing herself.

Lydia smiled, shifted her weight to her hands and began to move over him. She started out slow in the hopes he would grow used to the sensation, though she wasn’t sure how he could. It was hard for her to ignore how amazing it felt. 

The reverent expression on his face wasn’t helping her keep control. He was so fucking beautiful. No. That wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t just how he looked or how sex felt like she was exploding from the inside out with pleasure. She couldn’t focus enough to pinpoint what it was, but she knew it had to do with everything she knew he was feeling in this moment. The momentum of his love for her over all those years, building like a snowball turning into an avalanche until it crushed her under the weight of his hopes and dreams.

Her orgasm took them both by surprise. Lydia let out a startled shriek, while Stiles shouted, “What? Are you...oh my fucking g-” He bite off that last word, his own climax ripping through his body and causing him to thrust up into her with surprising speed and force.

Lydia rode the waves of pleasure while Stiles writhe underneath her. She loved this moment. Few things as raw and real as a man in the throes of an orgasm. Everything fell away in these few seconds to show who he really was. Stiles was breathtaking. 

His eyes were shut tight, but his fingers clung to her hips. His cheeks were flushed with splashes of rosy color that always made her think of a man out of a Jane Austen novel. Stiles should have been born in the Regency era, when slender, pale skinned young men were the very epitome of masculine beauty.

He finished with a low hum that resonated through his chest and into her body, making her want to keep moving until he was hard again. She abandoned the idea when he collapsed back into the bed, breathing heavily through his mouth while covering his face with his forearm. 

It was best not to push him too hard on their first time. She slowly kissed a line up his neck and shifted off him, while they both groaned. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his body to keep her close. Lydia tucked her face into Stiles’ body and closed her eyes. She wanted to hold on the moment just a little longer. 

Soon enough things would change, as they always do. Lydia knew that better than anyone, especially since she was the one that set it all in motion. The hand the turned them all. It should comfort her, knowing everything, but it never did. If anything it left her feeling cold, even when she’s wrapped in Stiles’ warm embrace.


	4. What We Are

"You have to go." She presses her face against his neck, taking a deep breath and enjoying the piney scent of what must be his shampoo.

"I see how it is. Use me for sex and then toss me out the door." He laughed softly and turned to kiss her forehead. 

"If you want to explain to my parents why we're half naked in my bed you can." It was a lie.

Her parents wouldn't be back from their date night for another four hours at least, but it was a good excuse to get him to leave. She gazed up at his smiling face and wished he could stay, but it was better if he wasn't here to deal with the fall out. 

"Yeah, I'm going to pass on that awkward moment." He gave her another kiss and rolled out the bed.

She took a few indulgent moments to watch him struggle into his clothes. He had this kind of chaotic grace to his movements, like a wild dance the only his body could follow and by the end every limb always ended up where he intended.

When he reached her doorway she got up and pulled on her robe to walk with him to the front door. They took the stairs side by side, in silence. She could sense he wanted to touch her, but he maintained a respectable distance which only made her want to throw him down on the foyer floor and fuck him all over again. Boys had absolutely no clue what an aphrodisiac their insecurities were.

"So I guess I'll call you later." He hung on the edge of the open door, his eyes fixed on her hands and his body betraying his need for her reassurance.

"You better call me." She leaned forward to kiss him, combing her fingers through his tangled hair and swiping her tongue over his bottom lip.

"Okay." He still had that dopey grin on his face when she closed the door.

She leaned her back on the door, allowing herself to enjoy the silence. The respite was short-lived, broken by a telltale creak from upstairs. Lydia raised her eyes to stare at the ceiling and sighed. It was time to face the music. 

Lydia reluctantly dragged herself back upstairs to find Derek standing in the middle of her room. His nostrils were flared and his hands were curled into fists. Tension hanging so thick in the air, she felt like she was going to choke on it.

She moved slowly, not wanting to startle him. He was going through enough as it was. Poor guy. Lydia was pretty sure that he'd spent every minute since they last spoke trying to convince himself he wasn't jealous. Probably was still rationalizing even when he followed Stiles and her on their date. Like Derek Hale had any business being at the bowling alley tonight, other than to sulk at the bar while she had a blast kicking Stiles’ ass through all three frames.

"He's gone." Derek's voice was a low rumble, like thunder from a distant storm, and Lydia was tempted to start counting to see how close she was to being struck by lightning.

"Yes." She took another hesitant step forward.

"That wasn't a question." His eyes rose to fix on her, and bled to red in the space of a second. "I heard his Jeep pull out of the driveway."

"Good." She sighed and crossed her arms. "He doesn’t need to see this."

“Wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable.” His eyebrows raised and he tilted his head with a sharp jerk. 

She could hear his neck pop, and wondered if he could break his spine if he did it hard enough. He wasn’t going make it easy on either of them. Fucking boys and their fragile little hearts. 

“Are you going to sulk all night?” She walked over to him, and slowly slid her arms around his neck, watching with a shiver of satisfaction as his features shifted from human to werewolf. “Or are you going to fuck me?”

“What are you playing at, Lydia?” His voice was more of a growl, his elongated canines making his words sound garbled. 

“Who says I’m playing?” She gave him her usual coy smirk and gently scraped the back of his neck with the blunt tips of her nails. It wasn’t enough to leave a mark, but it got the reaction she wanted. 

He was suddenly on her, hands cradling the back of her head and his face pressed against her neck. Fear surged through her; while she wasn't easily spooked, she also wasn't stupid. A jealous, close to out of control werewolf pressing his mouth against your jugular was far from safe.

"You smell like him," Derek mumbled against her skin, his tongue darting out to lick her at her pulse and slide behind her ear. "You taste like sex."

“He tastes good, doesn’t he?” She tried to keep her voice even, despite the adrenaline surging through her and making her hands tremble. 

His hands gripped her waist and her feet left the floor. As she sailed through the air to land on her bed she marveled at how fast he moved and yet how careful he’d been. He could have easily cut her with his claws, could have thrown her out the window or put her head through the wall. Instead she landed on her soft bed with a small yelp of surprise. 

Derek stood at the edge of the bed, clawed hands at his side and an tortured expression on his face. He was fighting hard. She had faith he would win, he always did, but that didn’t stop her heart from racing or her palms from sweating. There is only so far logic can fight against natural, human instincts. 

She watched in silence as he slowly regained control. His claws retracted and teeth returned to their blunt, human length. Then his brilliant red eyes dimmed and faded back to green.

“Do you want me to hurt you?” The muscles in Derek’s jaw flexed, like he was fighting to get out each word as much as he fought for control of himself. 

“We both know you won’t.” She reached out to touch him, but he stepped back. 

“Stop it!” He barked at her, sounding more like a scared boy than a dangerous Alpha. 

“No. You stop being a coward and face this!” She rose up from the bed, frustration finally getting the best of her. 

The fire returned to his eyes in an instant. “I am not a coward.” He stepped forward, almost close enough to touch and glared down at her.

Lydia fought the urge to laugh while she tugged the ties for her robe and let it slip off her body to pool on the floor at her feet, leaving her naked. “Fine, then tell me the smell of him doesn’t turn you on.”

He closed his eyes, and reluctantly inhaled. A shudder moved through his body at an inhuman speed. As if his whole body were trying to shake off the effects of the scent, like a wet wolf shaking off rainwater. 

“You can’t run from this forever.” Lydia sighed. No matter how hard Derek tried, he couldn’t shake off the truth. 

“I’m not running.” He opened his eyes to regard her with the empty predatory gaze of the Alpha, his preferred method to hide. 

“Then just admit it.” She closed the last few inches of space between them to press her palm against his chest. 

He looked down at her hand, but didn’t move. Lydia waited, silence engulfing them. Not that she minded. Silence was a virtue, but it was also a powerful weapon. Some people couldn’t stand the emptiness left by silence. It became like a vacuum, drawing the words from them.

Once Stiles had jokingly called Derek monosyllabic. Lydia had corrected him, simply saying laconic, and watched with a smirk while he rolled his eyes. She knew there was a big difference between someone who didn’t know how to communicate and someone who feared it. 

Derek’s wall of silence was just another way to hide all the shit he couldn’t handle. Lydia only needed one crack, a weakness she could use to tear down that wall. Of course it wasn’t easy, and very well might get her killed, but it was worth the risk. Better to get Derek to deal with how he felt about Stiles now, than to risk him losing control and hurting someone or himself.

Lydia thought of it like a controlled burn. A slow dismantling of the last remaining boundary between them. He needed to let her all the way in, and admit his feelings to relieve the tension that had been building since he met Stiles. 

Derek’s expression crumpled, as if the weight of the truth was crushing from the inside out. “I can’t.” It was so close to a whimper that Lydia felt something inside her chest tighten at the sound. 

“Okay.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, abandoning all her plans to talk it out and giving into the need for reassurance. “You don’t need to talk.”

It was enough that he knew he didn’t have to hide it from her anymore. He didn’t have to carry it alone. That was a good enough for her. 

He shook his head weakly, but didn’t fight her hold on him. “This is so fucked up.”

“No, it’s not.” She rose up on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. “We’re still safely hovering between slightly abnormal and majorly screwed.”

“Now you’re talking like him.” The corner of his mouth twitched, almost as if a smile were trying to fight its way into existence. 

“Does it turn you on?” she teased.

He groaned and wound his arms around her waist. “You don’t make it easy on me, do you?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” She slid her fingers into his hair, and scratched her nails along his scalp, making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

He sighed, and buried his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. “Fucking Dr. Pepper.” Derek mumbled the curse against the sensitive skin under her ear, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“I swear he bathes in the stuff.” Lydia pressed her face against the hard leather of Dereks jacket.

“I like it.” If Derek’s lips hadn’t been pressed to her earlobe, Lydia was sure she wouldn’t have heard him say it.

“Me too,” she admitted, and felt Derek’s hold on her tighten a little.


	5. Sounds Like Surrender

“Holy shit!” Stiles gasped, and held onto the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. “I’m gonna co-” The word disappeared into a long groan.

Lydia pinned him in the seat, her palms on his thighs while she slowly slid her lips off his still twitching cock. Stiles struggled to catch his breath while she relaxed back into the passenger seat and glanced at her cellphone. Three minutes to spare. Not bad, she thought, while wiping the corners of her mouth.

“You better zip up and get going, big boy. Wouldn’t want to be late for practice.” She yanked down the rearview mirror and started to fix her lipstick while Stiles quickly shoved his dick back in his pants. 

“You know you’re amazing, right?” Stiles leaned over to kiss her cheek.

Seeing his profile in the mirror, she was struck by how mature he begun to look lately. His hand was broad, and sprinkled with dark hair. Even his forearm had grown, flexing with each movement. The veins and defined muscles that spoke of power, but his face still held a kind of boyish beauty. Those sharp eyes that never missed a detail framed by soft eyelashes. His wide smile that never seemed to quite reach his eyes, and the way he looked at her like he knew every single one of her secrets. 

Teenage boys had a way of straddling the rift between youth and manhood. Stiles did it with his own unique brand of grace. At times it left her stunned and made her think of ridiculously impractical things she shouldn’t even want. He captured her chin between his long fingers, and turned her head to face him. 

“Meet me after practice.” He kissed her softly, not bothering to wait for her to respond, because it was not a question. 

Lydia watched in silence as he got out of the Jeep and jogged across the parking lot. Her phone chirped in her purse, but she didn’t need to look at it to know who it was. Derek knew damn well where she was, but he wasn’t known for his patience. 

She slid out of Stiles’ Jeep, closing the door with a sigh, and walked to her car. The drive would be good. She need to clear her head, and hopefully take away the weight that had settled onto her chest like a stone. 

When she pulls up to Derek’s new place, Stiles’ face was still on her mind. She parked in front of the converted warehouse, and tried to focus. After all, she had put a lot of effort into this surprise, and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.

The warehouse looked unremarkable from the outside. Just another empty building in Beacon Hills’ ever-growing graveyard of an industrial district. It was a perfect place for Derek and the Pack, isolated and sheltered from curious eyes. The downstairs area was an empty concrete training room. Upstairs had been converted to a modern loft space, open, stark and almost completely empty. Derek had the style of a hipster hobo. Half his furniture looked like he’d salvaged it out of dumpster, and the other half looked like it’d fallen off the back of a Crate & Barrel truck. 

Lydia had helped with that part of the decorating, taking liberties with Derek’s credit card and her savvy sense interior design skills to work some tasteful pieces in among the trash. Of course the most important part was the bed: new, clean and big enough to allow her to share it with Derek without being buried under his sweaty werewolf body. Not that it stopped him from flopping on top of her in his sleep. Derek Hale was a snuggler; go figure. 

“That was fast,” Derek said, sliding the metal door closed behind her with a flick of his wrist. 

She wanted to call him a show-off, but she didn’t want to ruin the surprise by opening her mouth. Instead she dropped her purse on the breakfast bar, kicked off her heels, and climbed the spiral staircase that lead up to his bedroom. Derek was like a shadow behind her, not talking or touching her until they reached the top of the platform. 

He put his hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face him, a look of flirtatious curiosity on his face. It was so refreshing to see him this relaxed. 

Since they’d knocked down that last wall, they had settled into a comfortable place. Lydia wasn’t sure what to call it, but she knew it seemed to trickle down through every part of Derek’s life. Especially when it came to the pack. He hadn’t lost his temper with them once. He and Scott were downright friendly with each other most days. Stiles hadn’t been able to egg him into a fight in over a month. She’d even caught Derek smiling a few of Stiles’ jokes, when he thought no one was looking. The thought brought back the feeling of weight on her chest. She tried to ignore it, pushed it out of her mind, and closed the distance to kiss Derek.

He opened his mouth to her, cradled the back over her head with his hand and pulled her into his body. Lydia slid her tongue inside his mouth and smiled when he gasped. The minute he tasted Stiles on her tongue he reacted with the speed of a gunshot. The growl vibrated out of his mouth and right into hers, causing her to jerk back with a gasp of her own. He had her off the ground and sailing through the air in less than a second.

Lydia hit his king sized bed with a shout of laughter, and rolled into the pile of pillows she insisted he keep there. Derek was on top of her in seconds, tugging open the front of her dress and pulling her bra down so he could lick and kiss her breasts. She went to work on his jeans, pulling off his belt and opening up the front of his pants to pull out his already hard dick. 

“You were just with him, weren’t you?” It was a silly question, but she liked that he had to ask, that he needed her to confirm that he was tasting Stiles.

“Yes,” she sighed, tightening her grip on his dick and pulled him closer. “I insisted on sucking him off in the parking lot before practice.” 

“Fuck,” he managed to groan while he fished a condom from the bedside table, and pushed her hand away so he could put it on. “Could have given me a little warning before the kiss. I nearly lost it.”

“Don’t be melodramatic.” She rose up on her knees and kissed him again, to prove her point. “Besides, you love my surprises.”

Derek gently pushed her back down on the bed, and carefully pulled her panties off, tossing them to the floor. “You’re the one who likes surprises.” He pushed up her skirt and lowered his gaze, gently nudging her legs further apart.

He was doing this more often, taking time to stare at her exposed pussy before they fucked. As if he enjoyed see this part of her so much, he need to stare at it every chance he could. Lydia hated it. She didn’t like how it made her feel off balance. It was one thing if she showed up in nothing but an overcoat and laid herself out for him, which she had done just last week. That was all part of the game, putting on a little show to get him in the mood. 

This felt different. The expression on his face was oddly calm, almost content. Men weren’t supposed to look so serene when they looked at pussy. They were supposed to pant and drool like a hungry wolf. 

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” she joked, and nudged him with her knee in the hopes he would get the hint. 

“I would if I thought you were serious,” Derek sighed, and slid his hand up her thigh to cover her pussy with his palm. “But a picture doesn’t have the smell.” He lowered his face between her legs and drew his tongue along the length of her pussy, while he continued to lightly stroke her clit with his thumb. “That’s my favorite part.”

Lydia looked down her body and watched his eyes bleed to red. His hands were still human, but she could feel the vibrating sound of his wolf approval. It wasn’t a purr, because according to Derek werewolves do not purr. It was like a deep rumble of satisfaction that moved through his whole body, and even made his hand tremble right over her clit. 

“Fucking teasing asshole!” She gasped, lifting her hips off the bed, only to be pushed back down and licked again. 

“You kiss me with Stiles’ come in your mouth, and I’m the tease.” Derek exhaled in a low stuttered laugh. 

“Put that dick in me or I will do it myself.” She sneered, nails digging into the bed while he continued to kiss along her stomach. 

“Say please,” he breathed against her belly button. 

Lydia screamed in frustration, and hit him over the head with a pillow, only to have him fall on top of her. His body pressed her into the mattress with breathtaking force. Not that it stopped her from trying to hit him, but it didn’t do any good. Derek was a werewolf and he outweighed her; there was no use fighting when he wanted to hold her down. 

“Say it.” He kissed the tip of her nose, and shifted his hips just right to press his hard dick against her thigh. 

“No.” She turned her head to the side and scowled at the wall. 

“It’s just a word.” He whispered against her jaw and kissed her chin. 

“Yes, so why do you need me to say it?” She turned back to glare at him, huffing indignantly right in his face.

Derek looked at her, eyes finally returned to their normal color, with an earnest, unguarded expression on his face. “Because I want to hear you say it.” 

Lydia took a deep breath, leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Please.”

His answer was to slowly slid inside her, making them both moan. Derek rose up on his arms, and began to thrust at a steady pace. His face hovered above her, that same tranquil expression swept away the shadows, and made him look almost happy. Lydia wanted nothing more than to look away. It added to the weight that was already threatening to crave in her chest. Too much more and she would crumble under it all.

“Kiss me.” It sounded more like a plea than a command, but he thankfully didn’t call her on it.  
He lowered his mouth to her already trembling lips, and allowed her to get lost in the moment. Every move was so deliberate, echoing the thrust of his hips and the slow push and pull of his cock sliding inside her. Each retreat leaving her wanting, every time he returned made her cry out softly against his mouth. 

When she came, tears slid from the corners of her eyes. Derek nuzzled his nose into her neck and mumbled something she didn’t want to hear. So she stared at the ceiling and let her body ride the climax until he thrust into her one last time. 

He left her alone to clean up, returning with a damp cloth and towel for her to use. While she tried to right herself, Derek lay out on his bed, watching her with an intent expression. 

“Do you have to go?” It was a simple question, but the fact that he asked when he already knew the answer meant he was trying to piss her off.

“He’s expecting me.” She straightened her skirt and began to search the floor for her panties. 

“Might want to stop at home and get a scarf.” Derek stood up from the bed, walked over to pluck her panties off the floor, and held them out on the tip of his outstretched finger.

Lydia snatched them off his finger and went to the mirror to check herself, wondering what he meant about the scarf. Then she saw it. The red, angry splotch sat right on the top of her left breast. It was unmistakable and virtually impossible to cover with this top. 

“You gave me a hickey? How fucking old are you?” she screamed, but Derek had already headed down the stairs with a jovial bounce in his step.

“Tell Stiles I said hi,” he called back up to her, and Lydia picked up one of the decorative lamps from the vanity and threw it against the wall.


	6. What's in a Name?

_Lydia._

It was just a word. Just her name. It shouldn't bother her, only it did. A lot. 

The issues wasn't so much that he said it, though the fact that he has suddenly gotten chatty during sex was something she should have noticed before. No. The issue was Derek said her name when he came. It wasn’t just the timing, but the way he said.

She practically heard the smile in his tone, and inflection. A guy smiling and saying your name when he comes is no small thing. Especially when said guy is Derek Hale.

This was not good. It was a big sign things were getting even more complicated. She needed to deal with it quickly before it got even worse, but not now. At the moment she had a much more pressing problem. 

She stood in front of her closet with an obscene amount of cover up carefully concealing the mark on the top of her breast. It was doing a good job of masking the hickey, but she needed a shirt with a high enough neckline to ensure Stiles wouldn’t see it. She scanned the rows of hanging clothes and searched for a blouse that wouldn’t seem too uncharacteristically modest. 

It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if Stiles didn’t have a particular affection for her breasts. He loved to touch, suck and nuzzle them. Which wasn’t really surprising. When guys get unfettered access to boobs they tend to get a little obsessed. 

She happily indulged him, wearing low cut tops and finding a lot of reasons to bend over to give him a better view at school. Unfortunately, that meant no matter how carefully she chose a top, Stiles was going to notice the absence of her cleavage. 

Of course Derek knew all of this, which was probably why he gave her the hickey in the worst possible place ever. This little stunt wasn’t a joke. He was a wolf, for Christ’s sake, and if leaving a giant hickey on her tit wasn't marking his territory she didn't know what was. It was just another sign things were getting out of control. She needed to put Derek’s idiotic werewolf ass back in line before he peed on her shoes or, even worse, called her his girlfriend.

By the time the doorbell rang she had settled on a light pink silk blouse, buttoned up to her neck, and topped it off with a cream colored scarf tied in an intricate knot. It wasn’t subtle, but she figured if it looked purposeful enough she could pass it off as fashion. Stiles didn’t know the first think about style, and would likely accept it without asking too many questions. 

Lydia ran down the stairs, but took two seconds to calm down before opening the door. Stiles stood in the doorway dripping with sweat, his uniform still on and equipment bag still hanging from his shoulder. She tried to keep her breathing steady, though the sight of him in uniform was extremely distracting. 

“I hope it’s cool if I use your shower,” he said with a sheepish grin, and shuffled through the door. “I didn’t want to waste time.”

“No problem.” She closed the door and turned around to find him staring at her with a relieved smile on his face. “You know where it is.”

“I do.” He let his equipment bag drop to the floor and stepped closer. “Wanna join me?”

Lydia was a little stunned and thrown off her game. She blamed the hickey and the salt scent coming off Stiles’ skin. Really, sweaty boys shouldn’t smell so good. She was sure it had to be a side effect of hanging around werewolves. 

“I don’t think so,” she replied, in a voice that was a lot shakier than she wanted. 

Stiles slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “Are you sure?”

Before she could answer he leaned in and began to kiss her neck. Lydia wanted to scream, but she was too busy trying to stifle her moans. He was getting dangerously good at knowing how to touch her body, a surprising benefit of his near photographic memory. Stiles rarely needed to be told something twice, especially when it came to sex. 

He moved up her neck to brush his lips along her earlobe and breathed softly against her skin. “Please.”

Lydia took a deep breath, and pressed her face into Stiles’ damp jersey. He shouldn’t smell so good and she shouldn’t feel this weak. After all, he was just a boy. A sweet, clever boy who was far more dangerous than she has ever given him credit for. 

She was nodding before she even realized she made the decision, and even though she couldn’t see his face she knew he was smiling.

The steam billowed out over the top of the shower curtain, filling the bathroom with a heavy, heated mist. Lydia undressed slowly, giving Stiles time to get in first and hopefully allow the steam to thicken even more. 

“Come on, slow poke!” Stiles brushed his fingers tip along her thigh, just under her ass, and gave her a wink before setting into the shower.

She finished getting undressed, and gave her breast a last check before climbing in with him. It was good, she should be safe. _Hope it’s waterproof_ , she thought, and tried to ignore the cold, mocking laughter inside her head. 

Stiles was already working up a thick lather of soap on his chest, but stopped in order to focus on her. Lydia quickly turned to offer him her back, and keep his soapy hands off her breast. He didn’t complain; his hands were busy working the slick soap down her back and over her ass. 

“Spread your legs.” His voice would have sounded commanding it if hadn’t cracked a little, but that didn’t make it any less sexy to her ears.

“Rinse your hands first.” She turned around and lifted her leg to rest her foot on the edge of the tub.

“Why?” Stiles looked up at her, squinting one eye to avoid the spray of water raining down on his face. 

Lydia sighed, and moved the shower head to save his eyesight. “Because vaginas aren’t muddy tennis shoes. They only need water and gentle rub to keep them clean.”

Stiles’ smirked, his lips twisting in a crinkled manner that always made him look positively devilish. “Rubbing, eh?”

His thoroughly rinsed hands went to work, and much to Lydia’s surprise had her shaking and ready to come in a matter of a few minutes. Damn, he was really getting good at this. If she didn’t take a break she was going to fall over, her legs were trembling so much.

Stiles didn’t say a word. He just continued to smirk as he stood up and returned to washing himself. She leaned on the wall, watching the muscles in his back and legs flex and shift as he moved. As he stepped into the spray, the water slid over his body only seemed to emphasis every line of definition. When he turned around, his hard dick bobbing as he moved, she couldn’t help but smile. He might have the face of a boy, but from the neck down he was man. 

“Your turn.” Stiles took hold of her waist and moved her under the spray.

Suddenly frantic that he not try to soap her up, Lydia let out a little startled cry, but she quickly realized he real intentions when he silenced her with his mouth. It was the distraction she needed. His need tamped down her concern, while his hand slid between her legs and with clever fingers rekindled the sparks of the pleasure that were still smoldering.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, kissing along her neck.

“I know,” she replied with a sigh of relief, while little tremors spread through her belly and up her spine.

Stiles laughed, and brushed his nose across her collarbone. “So humble too.”

“A regular Mother Teresa.” Lydia leaned her head to the side to give him a wink of her own. “Which I’m sure does it for you.”

“You got me,” Stiles replied, and dragging his chin between her breasts, his light stubble sending chills across her skin. “This is all part of an elaborate ruse to get you to dress up like a nun and spank me with a ruler.” 

“I’m going to put parental locks on your web browser,” Lydia laughed and kissed his forehead. “Though, I was honestly expecting a Princess Leia slave costume request first.”

“I was working up to that one.” Stiles shrugged. “That’s a big step. I’m mean, Leia’s the ultimate fantasy girl after all.” 

“And what am I?” Lydia lightly slapped his shoulder, and pulled him into the shower spray. 

Stiles jerked back, catching her around the waist and lifting her off her feet. Her back met the wall, and his body pressed against her, holding her in place. He gazed at her for a half a second, an expression of unguarded contentment on his face. 

“You’re my girl.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly, his lips lightly brushing over her still open mouth. 

She had not response. Words were lost in the moment. She could do was close her eyes and try to hold on. It felt like she was drowning, even though the water wasn’t even hitting their bodies. All she could feel was the weight of Stiles’ body and the heat from his mouth on her skin. Then it was gone, leaving her suddenly cold and blinking in confusion.

“What the fuck?” Stiles made a strange hacking sound, a thick peach-colored streak of concealer across his outstretched tongue. 

He gently set her back on her feet and moved his mouth into the spray of water, rinsing and spitting repeatedly. “Oh god, that stuff tastes like bug spray and baby powder.”

Lydia turned her back to him, panic making her grip the shower curtain for stability. She was so stupid; she should have planned for this. It was such a pathetically simple mistake she wanted to scream and punch something. 

“Lydia?” She felt Stiles at her back, his hands on her waist, urging her to turn around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

She gave in, since that was all she seemed able to do with him. Why change it now? It was bound to happen. In the end she only had herself to blame, for thinking she could play these kinds of games and not care. It was easy when you never realised how high the stakes were.

Lydia raised her eyes to see Stiles staring at her breast. His fingers gently wiped over the spot until it was completely clean. It was still a little tender to the touch, but she didn’t make a sound or pull back from his touch. She watched as his hand covering the top of her breast, framing the mark between his thumb and index finger. It stood out like a bloodstain on pale skin. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be.” He shook his head slightly and looked into her eyes. “It’s not like I didn’t know.”

Somehow, what should have brought her relief only seemed to amplify the smoldering pain in her chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Stiles smiled. An impossibly bright, indulgent smile, like the kind you give a child. It made her feel small and silly, but for some reason it didn’t bother her as much as she knew it should.

“Lydia,” he sighed, and pulled her into his arms. “The only way you could hurt me is if you dumped me.”

She shook her head, sliding her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He laughed against her lips, but the humor soon dissipated, replaced by heat. She was desperate to show him that she had no intention of letting him go. He lifted her up again and stepped out of the shower. 

His feet slipped a little on the tile floor and they both let out startled yelps. Stiles set her down, turned off the water and wrapped her in a towel. She giggled as he lifted her up again and took her into the bedroom. 

He set her on the bed and went to the side table to grab a condom. She unwrapped herself and laid back, enjoying the view. His broad shoulders flexed, and the newly defined muscles in his thighs twitched as he rolled the condom on. 

She welcomed him onto the bed, wrapping him in her arms and legs. As he slid inside her, they both let out a moan of relief. Lydia kissed his face, and Stiles kept on smiling. His body moving against her with strength and purpose. Lydia held on, allowing her body to ride the waves of pleasure while she watched Stiles move. 

“Touch yourself,” he gasped in between strokes, and lowered his head to press their foreheads together. 

Lydia sucked on two of her fingers, and smiled with Stiles groaned his approval. She gave him an answering moan and slid the slick fingers between their bodies. It sent a shock of pleasure through her pelvis, and Stiles’ hips picked up speed. She tried to match her circles to his pace, and soon was bucking up into him as her orgasm overtook her with explosive force. 

Stiles continued to move, riding it out with her and then finally thrust one last time. “Holy crap that was amazing.”

He moved off her, disposed of the condom and lay back down on the bed. They stayed there in silence, neither one moving, and the sense of panic returned to press down on her chest. Lydia stared at the ceiling and wondered how she ever thought she could keep him under her thumb. She of all people should have known that Stiles wasn’t an idiot. 

She finally gave herself a mental slap and rolled onto her side to look at him. “I should have been upfront with you.”

He looked a little surprised, but nodded. “Yeah, you probably should have, but I can understand why you weren’t. I mean, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me a little, but if I have to choose, I’ll choose you every time, Lydia. No matter what comes with it.”

Lydia frowned a little. “You could try to muster up a bit of jealousy. I mean, to cushion my ego at least.” She was trying to be funny, covering for how stunned she was over how well he was taking it. 

“Oh I’m jealous, you can trust me on that.” He let out a sputtering laugh that held no humor, and made his face contort with an expression of distaste. “It doesn’t help that it’s him.”

“Who would you have rathered it be, Isaac?” She sat up and began to wrap her hair in the towel, mildly horrified by what a mess it must look like. 

“Ha! Shows what you know. I’d have a better chance with Isaac than you would. If you know what I mean.” Stiles snatched the towel away, tossed it on the floor and pulled her over to lay next to him.

“Doubtful,” Lydia snipped, lightly slapping his chest and pulling his comforter over them. “From what Allison tells me he likes his men short and tanned and Mexican.”

Stiles’ head snapped to the side, a mixture of disbelief and excitement on his face. “Bullshit!”

“Apparently, the three of them had a little private party involving tequila shots and Truth or Dare.” She made a show of checking her nails, not even trying to stifle the smirk on her face. “I have the text messages and a few incriminating pictures to prove it.”

“Wow,” Stiles chuckled and leaned back. “Way to go, Scott.”

Lydia nodded. It was funny how things work out. Allison’s news had been both surprising and not surprising. Isaac’s crush was about as subtle as high heels on a gorilla, but it had never occurred to Lydia that Allison would encourage it. Much less orchestrate a drunken get-together to not only allow her boyfriend to hook up with another guy, but to get them all into bed together. 

“More like way to go Allison,” Lydia mumbled to herself. 

“Don’t even go there.” Stiles said, giving her a disapproving glare.

Lydia rolled her eyes, and sighed. “I’m not.”

“Good,” he grunted, reach over her to grab the remote from the side table and turned on the tv. “I’m just happy to be with you, even I have to share you with that furry jerkface.”

“He’s not that bad,” Lydia argued, sitting up to look at him.

“To you, maybe,” he countered, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to waste our time talking about Captain Fuzzybutt.”

“Fine,” she sighed and laid back down with a disgruntled groan.

They laid there in silence while Stiles clicked through the channels. Tension built, and Lydia was wishing she’d just left it alone, when Stiles hooked his arm around her and sighed heavily.

“Please tell me that you kissed him after giving me head today.” Stiles pulled her up against his side and turned on the Cartoon Network. 

Lydia smiled. “Of course. That was part of why I wanted to give you a blowjob before practice in the first place.” She tilted her head against his arm and felt truly relaxed for the first time in far too long.

“That’s my girl,” Stiles laughed, and kissed the top of her head. 

Lydia giggled softly and curled into Stiles’ body, enjoying the fresh scent of soap. Then a thought occurred to her and she jerked back to glare at Stiles. “Wait, did you want me to take a shower because you knew I was with him?”

“Maybe.” Stiles didn’t take his eyes off the television, but their smirk on his face was an unmistakable sign that she was right. 

“I thought you said you were cool with it."

"There's cool with it, and there's tasting Derek's dick, which I am not interested in doing."

"How do you know until you try it?"

Stiles laughed, a loud explosive sound that caused him to drop the remote and hug her close. "Lydia, I love you, but not enough to swallow werewolf dick."

Lydia could only smile and laugh to cover the surge of panic drumming through every part of her body. Stiles kissed her forehead and settled back down against the pillows to watch TV. She snuggled up next to him, turning her eyes to the screen, but didn't really see the picture.

_Love._

It was just a word, she told herself, and tried to calm the thumping of her heartbeat roaring in her ears.


	7. Setting a Good Example

“These are all the markers we’ve found,” Scott told Derek, while Stiles taped up the pictures on the wall beside the television. 

Lydia planned to move them later, so they wouldn’t distract her while she caught up on her weekly ration of brain numbing reality tv. She set a reminder into her phone, and returned her gaze to study the slightly blurry pictures of various walls and doors with splattered with spray-painted symbols on them.

“It’s not an pack sign,” Peter commented with a sneer. “Way too sloppy.”

The pictures were obviously taken with a cell phone camera, but despite the poor quality she could easily make out a familiar symbol. The top was a greek omega lying on its side, with a line connecting its feet and extending into an upside-down A. A large x was painted over them, resulting a big sloppy smear of paint. 

“It could be hunters,” Allison added, from where she was sitting on the couch with her head on Isaac’s shoulder. “My dad said that they sometimes use markers to claim a territory they feel isn’t being properly managed by other groups.” 

“I thought he said there shouldn’t be anymore issues with rogue hunters.” Derek glared at Allison, and Lydia got the distinct feeling it had nothing to do with hunters or the symbols.

“You should ask your dad if they’re are any groups associated with Christianity,” Lydia said, drawing everyone’s attention, including Derek’s, which was her intention in speaking up. “It’s a chi ro. An ancient Christian symbol, associated with Christ’s name. I’m assuming that the omega at the top and alpha on the bottom referencing the passage from Revelations: I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.”

“I guess it was only a matter of time before we got a doomsday cult.” Stiles sighed, and shook his head. “Though I was really hoping to see a unicorn first.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek snapped. 

The meeting ended with Derek ordering everyone to avoid being alone as much as possible until they did more research. Allison was going to check the symbol with her father, while Scott talked with Deaton. Stiles volunteered to some research online, while Boyd and Erica volunteered to do evening patrols around town to check for more markers. 

As everyone began to leave, Lydia ducked into the bathroom to cover up the fact she was staying with Derek. She had already sent Stiles a text breaking the news to him. He received it with a nonchalant shrug and pinched her when she passed him on the way to the bathroom. It would be easy to run away and hide at Stiles’ place, but she needed to talk with Derek about a lot of things. At the top of the list was how comfortable he was getting with her presence. Tonight he had almost kissed her before the start of the meeting, in front of the entire pack. 

Lydia wasn’t foolish enough to think that a group of supernatural creatures with superhuman senses didn’t know they were fucking, but public displays of affection were an entirely different ball game. Being Derek’s second in command afforded her a voice in the group, respect and certain amount of fear. If she were to be shifted into a girlfriend position, that could undermine her status as an equal. She would no longer be Lydia; she’d be Derek’s girlfriend. Lydia Martin had no interest in being in anyone’s shadow. Alpha or not.

Her phone rang, drawing her out of her thoughts. She pulled it out of her purse, but hesitated to answer when she saw the call was from an unknown number. _Probably a telemarketer or something equally pointless_ , Lydia thought, exiting the bathroom to find Allison and Isaac whispering in the hallway outside the door. 

Lydia didn’t have to hear what they were saying to guess that it wasn’t good. Isaac looked sad and a little scared, while Allison’s face was twisted with concern. Lydia stepped closer, being sure to be noisy enough to at least catch Isaac’s attention, and they both immediately fell silent and looked at her.

“I’ll call you later.” Isaac glared at Lydia, but gave Allison’s hand a gentle squeeze before he stalked past Lydia toward the front door. 

“Well someone’s a huffy little bitch today,” Lydia commented, and turned back to see Allison still looking concerned. 

“He’s just worried,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder toward the living room. “Derek’s asked to talk to Scott alone.”

“That doesn’t mean it has to do with you guys.” Lydia walked up to put her hand on Allison’s shoulder, trying to reassure her friend. “They’re probably measuring their penis or smelling each other’s butt. You know, typical Alpha stuff.”

Allison didn’t laugh, which was a bad sign. She also didn’t look at Lydia, which made her even more concerned. Lydia pulled her hand away, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“We could hear them yelling and there was a loud thump-” Allison’s voice seemed to catch, she shook her head and raised her gaze to fix sad, frightened eyes on Lydia. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Lydia shook her head, lying through her teeth, but it wasn’t that hard to fool people when you were telling them what they wanted to hear.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Allison swallowed and smiled weakly. 

Lydia sighed, and stifled the urge to run away from the entire messy situation. “I’ll bust in there and sort it out. Wait here.”

“Thanks.” Allison called out after her, but Lydia didn’t even bother to acknowledge it. 

She did consider Allison a friend, but more importantly she was part of the pack. Resolving this issue helped everyone in the long run, even if it might mean she had to go head to head with Derek. It was a long time coming, and if she was lucky she could kill two birds with one stone. After all, if there was one thing Derek hated more than anything, it was being called on his bullshit in front of the other wolves, especially Scott.

“I hate to interrupt whatever territorial pissing-” Lydia halted mid-sentence, just inside the living room, and took in the sight of both Derek and Scott half wolfed out like a couple of super-charged morons. 

The couch was lying upside down on the other side of the room. The pictures and wall they covered were slashed. Two of the antique standing lamps she’d gotten from an estate sale were lying twisted and mangled on the floor. Lydia was so livid, she didn’t noticed that they had moved until Derek appeared in front of her and pushed her back. He crouched in a protective hunch, and growled at Scott who was already shifting back to his human form. 

“Derek stop.” Lydia shouted, getting back to her feet and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

Scott stood still, not moving, but looking appropriately concerned and embarrassed. “It’s my fault. I started it.” 

Derek snarled and snapped in Scott’s direction. “Shut up!” Lydia yelled at both of them, and tightened her hold on Derek’s shoulders. 

“Derek,” she whispered, kissing his neck and ignoring the thick hair that brushed her lips. “Calm down.”

She could feel his chest expand and deflate under her, his muscles still trembling with the need to act. “Please.” The pleading tone was clear even to her human ears, and it struck him, just like her begging always did. 

There was no way to truly describe the sensation of holding a shifting werewolf. Like feeling a tidal wave trapped inside skin, or the shifting of the earth, but with an accompanying heat and popping of muscles and joints. Once she asked Derek if it hurt, and he simply replied “you get used to it.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low, but less raw. All man with only a hint of the wolf, and drenched with regret. There were some situations where the wolf overrode him and Lydia knew things had to have escalated a lot to get these two come to blows with claws out. 

“You can go, Scott,” Lydia spoke, but didn’t take her eyes of Derek’s face, or miss that his eyes were fixed on the ruined photographs on the wall. 

“We’re not finished talking about this,” Scott said, but did as she asked and left. 

She waited until she heard the tell-tale sound of the sliding metal door slam closed, signalling that they were alone. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Derek almost seemed to deflate a little bit more and gently pried her arms free of his body. “I’d rather not.”

“Tough shit.” She turned him around to face her, and pushed her way into his space. “When you destroy the living room and almost kill Scott, we talk. That’s a new rule. Got it?”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “You’re going to be pissed.”

“When am I not?” She shrugged and tried to listen to his heartbeat, it was normally higher than a human’s, but right now it sounded like a thumping bassline at a rave. 

“He wants Isaac.” There was a slight growl in Derek’s voice.

“Actually, he’s seeing both of them, but that’s beside the point. So what? Let them have fun.” She leaned back to find Derek scowling at the ceiling. 

“I can’t,” he sighed, and lowered her gaze a tortured expression on his face. “Isaac could end up shifting his alliance to Scott, which would weaken the pack.”

“Because Scott’s an Alpha, whether he has the red eyes or not,” Lydia nodded and chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Yes.” Derek looked equally frustrated. 

“That doesn’t explain how you two came to blows,” she pointed out, and he looked away. “Derek?”

“You’re not going to like it.” He rolled away from her and tried to pick up one of the lamps.  
Lydia was hot on his heels and slapped it out of his grasp. “Tell me.” 

“He said, I shouldn’t have an issue, since I don’t mind sharing you with Stiles.” There was a hint of a growl in his voice, but his eyes remained fixed on the broken lamp laying at his feet.

“You wrecked the house because he called me a slut?” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head; she wasn’t buying it. 

Derek’s eyes suddenly fixed on her face, his expression intense as he spoke. “If he had called you that he’d be dead right now.”

She took a slow breath, suppressing her desire to kiss him. It was a silly impulse. Derek’s overprotectiveness was not only unnecessary, it was a danger to the tentative alliance they had established with Scott. He needed to keep himself in check, and she was going to reenforce that by not giving him a blow job no matter how turned on she was at the moment. 

“Then what’s the issue?” she finally asked, meeting his gaze without flinching. 

Derek huffed, a sharp sound that seemed to roll through his whole body, but did nothing to relieve the tension. “He said I was jealous. That there was no way Stiles would want me now that he has you.”

Lydia closed her eyes in an effort to stay calm. _Big, burly, alpha werewolves fighting like a couple of bitchy teenage girls_ , she thought and resisted the urge to scream. There was no point in losing her temper. 

No matter how badly she wanted to knock some sense into them both, she knew it was pointless. She had learned the hard way that slapping a werewolf only annoys the wolf and leaves you with a broken wrist. Instead, she exhaled, trying to push all the tension and frustration out of her body. 

“You’re going to fix this.” It wasn’t a request and they both knew it. 

“That was what I was trying to do.” Derek insisted. 

“By fighting with Scott?” she challenged, and shook her head in disbelief.

“No,” he sighed, pointedly avoiding her gaze, and bent down to pick up one of the broken lamps. “I was trying to protect Isaac. He doesn’t need to be their fucking experiment!” Derek snapped the brass stem of the lamp in his hands and dropped it back to the floor. “Enough people have fucked with his head. He doesn’t need Scott and Allison toying with him. The kid’s not built like us. He’s already falling in love with them.” 

Lydia didn’t like how concerned Derek was with Isaac’s love life. Sure he was the first wolf Derek had ever turned and his dad had used him as a punching bag, but there was something else to it. Something that made her stomach twist a bit. “How do you know?”

“I’m his alpha; I know.” He looked at her with a grief stricken expression that seemed to weigh down his entire body. “I felt it the second they walked into the room.”

It all became achingly clear to Lydia. The fight, Derek’s overreaction to Scott’s silly comment and his sudden need to protect Isaac. This was what she’d been fearing. What she had hoped to avoid. Why she wanted to talk to him tonight, but it was already too late. 

She crossed the distance between them and placed her hands on the sides of his face. “No, I mean, how do you know they don’t love him too?”

“This is Scott and Allison we’re talking about. How many times have they broken up?” He was getting worked up, she could feel the muscles in his jaws flexing beneath her fingers. “They have no idea what they’re doing or what it means to him.”

“Stop.” She moved her hand to cover his mouth, but Derek pulled back, gently tugging at her arms.

“I’m trying to stop things before it gets worse,” he insisted.

“We both know it’s too late.” She pulled his arms around her waist and rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. “Besides, out of the three of them Isaac has more experience in, well, _everything_. He’s a tough kid and he’ll make it through whatever happens.” 

He looked defeated, and nodded. She hated to see him like this. It compelled her to do whatever she could to fix it, even against her own better judgement. 

Lydia took his chin and made him look at her. “Just so you know, you’re not an experiment.”

His eyes widened and inhaled in a rush, air making his chest swell. He blinked rapidly and finally closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “I wasn’t talking-”

She cut him off with another kiss. “You don’t have to talk for me to know.”

“You’d think I would have learned that by now.” He chuckled softly, pulling her closer. 

“It’ll eventually make it through that thick werewolf skull,” she laughed lightly and laid her head on his chest.

“Thank you,” Derek whispered against her hair.

“Thank me by ordering something for dinner. I’m starving,” she replied and gently bit his chest through his shirt. A low rumble - that was not a purr - vibrated his chest.

“Yes ma’am.” Derek released her and headed toward the kitchen, where he kept a pile of take-out menus. 

“And you’re going to help me clean up this room,” she called after him, and grabbed her phone, which was chirping again. 

It was a voicemail from the unknown caller. She hit the button to play the message and put her phone to to her ear. 

“Hi Lydia, this is Mister Stilinski. Stiles’ dad. Yeah, I uh... I was wondering if you could meet me at the station on Saturday. There are a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you. So just give me a call and let me know if that will work for you. Okay. Bye.”

Lydia dropped her phone. As it hit the floor with a dull thud, she was almost a little sad it didn’t break. It would have made a great excuse for not returning the Sheriff's call.


	8. What We Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience.

“Now, it’s not like the movies.” The Sheriff lifted the pistol and aimed it at the paper silhouette hanging in the closed off range. “Don’t hold it too close to your face or the kick back will break your nose.”

He demonstrated the proper stance, gave Lydia a nod and turned his attention back to the target. Lydia sighed, readjusted the heavy ear muffs that were probably flattening the crap out of her hair, and did her best to look attentive, even though his whole self-defense demo was wearing down her last nerve.

At first it was kind of sweet. He showed her some simple tactics to escape from cars, how to set up a simple one-touch panic button app on her phone and even gave her an can of pepper spray in a surprisingly cute pink holder. She even liked his lesson in how to disarm someone holding a gun using pressure points, but all the while she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Nice as Sheriff Stilinski was, he didn’t give one-on-one personal defense lessons to teenage girls. She would know. Her mother’s book club would have already be squawking about it, instead of rating his ass on a scale with Allison’s dad. Though the most traumatizing debate involved her mother comparing Derek’s ass to a pair of firm grapefruit. Lydia finished off one of the bottles that night, in her room while blasting music to drown out the sound of middle aged women giggling. 

Lydia knew the Sheriff had another reason to bring her down here and it didn’t take a genius to figure out it had to do with Stiles. More specifically, her relationship with Stiles. She waited, letting him work up to whatever he was going to say, sure that it couldn’t be good, but hopeful that he wasn’t going to waste his time by telling her to leave his son alone. 

She held her breath, and watched the Sheriff fire off three rounds. Even at this distance she could see the bullet hit the target in the head. The Sheriff hit the button to bring the target back to them, and once it was within reach he yanked it down to lie across the small ledge in front of them. 

“Nice grouping, sir,” Lydia yelled at him, and smiled.

The Sheriff looked appropriately impressed that she had used shooting terminology. “You’ve shot before?”

“Yes.” She nodded, picking up the Glock 19 he’d signed out for her, and slid the clip into place. “Daddy likes to go shooting to blow off steam when a big deal goes South.” 

The Sheriff replied, but she couldn’t hear it over the sound of her shots. She hit the button, watching the target reel in, and didn’t even bother to hide her smirk. Two in the head and one in the chest. It didn’t quite hit the heart, but it would have pierced the lungs, and brought an attacker down just as well. 

“Well, that’s... unexpected,” he muttered, pulling down her target and staring at it like it was the Dead Sea Scrolls.

“I’m sure.” Lydia pulled off the earmuffs, and set them beside the pistol. “So how about we get to the point of why you called me down here.”

The Sheriff sighed, put aside the target and gave her an appraising look. “I’m going to be straight with you, since it’s obvious you can handle it.”

She nodded with confidence, but a tiny trembling started in her hand. Lydia straighten her back, and gripped her purse a little tighter to stop her hand from shaking. Panic wouldn’t help anything.

“You want me to stop seeing Stiles.” She tried to sound calm, even nonchalant, while a small voice inside her was screaming and urging her to slap the older man who was still staring at her with infuriatingly unreadable expression. 

“That depends. Are you actually seeing him?” He was good, cool and casual, like they were talking about the weather. 

“I thought you said you were going to be straight with me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her hips to the side. Two could play this game.

Finally, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, he smiled, and for a split second she saw Stiles in the gesture. “Sorry, it’s a hazard of the business.” He waved vaguely at his uniform and sighed again, his expression turning sober in the short space of a breath. “Stiles loves you. Hell, has since you two were kids, and I don’t want him getting hurt. He’s not good with it.”

“I don’t think most people are, but you don’t have to worry,” she replied with a flip of her hair, proud that she bent the truth just enough to pass. “He’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for.” She began to walk toward the door, hoping to end the conversation before it got anymore uncomfortable.

“I hope you’re right,” he added before she closed the door behind her. 

***

She should have seen the Sheriff’s impromptu shooting lesson as a sign. An omen of the bad shit headed their way. Of course if she had known, she would have never agreed to Stiles’ idea of searching for more markers. He was convinced there was a pattern in the locations where they were being made, but needed to be sure. 

It didn’t seem like a big issue breaking off into groups. They were only a few blocks away from the others. At the time he made sense, until two gun-toting lunatics appeared at the end of the alley holding automatic weapons and Lydia realized how stupid it was for them to not have insisted one of the werewolves be with them. 

She’s been distracted. Trying to support Stiles, reassure him that his idea wasn’t totally unfounded. She had seen the pattern too and suspected it might have a connection to an obscure cult she read about in one of the books back in his room. It was a stupid, simple mistake. One that very well might cost them their lives.

“Where’s the Alpha?” One of the men stepped forward. 

“Which one?” she retorted, while trying to figure out how to signal the others. 

“Shut your mouth, witch!” snapped the other gunman. 

The word seemed to hold a meaning more than an insult, and Lydia was curious, but not enough to forget to distract them while Stiles pocket texted their location to Derek. “Trust me, boys, you’ve haven’t seen my witchie side yet.”

“She’s not lying,” Stiles added with a casual chuckle, but she could see the tension in his movements. 

He was just as scared as she was. They were only going to get so far with banter and sass. Hopefully it was far enough to keep them alive.

“Exodus twenty-two eighteen: Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” The apparent leader of the two lifted his automatic weapon and aimed at it them.

“Exodus twenty thirteen: Thou shalt not kill.” Stiles stepped forward to put himself between them and Lydia.

“Wow, it’s like Bible study but with guns,” she threw in, putting her hand on Stiles’ shoulder. She wasn’t about to let him play hero. They were in this together and if they were going out it was going to be together. Lydia slid her hand into his, and gave it a squeeze. Stiles didn’t take his eyes off the hunters, but answered her by tightening his grip. 

The leader opened his mouth to speak just as a howl echoed all around them. It wasn’t too far away. Lydia was hoping they could stall just a little longer, but then the leader shook his head and smiled. A sick feeling twisted her stomach. 

It was a horrible cliche, saying that time slowed down, but it did. Lydia could feel the moment stretch on forever. The flash of the bullet leaving the gun like a camera, Stiles’ shoulder blocking her view of the hunters, and the unmistakable sound of Derek screaming “no.” They tumbled one after the other in slow motion, forcing Lydia to bear witness to all of it in sickening detail. 

Then time resumed at a dizzying speed that left her trying to catch up. There was a muffled grunt, two more gunshots and the cold depthless sense of loss. She stumbled backward, but stayed on her feet while she watched Derek fall into Stiles’ arms as they both went to the ground. The air left her lungs in a sharp hiss the second she saw the bloody front of Derek’s shirt.

She fell to her knees, the pain dulled by the sound of Stiles’ frantic screaming. “What were you thinking? Why did you do that? You crazy son of a bitch!”

Derek didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on Lydia. The calm acceptance in his expression brought her much needed clarity and cold certainty that someone was going to die. It wasn’t going to be him.

Her hand slid into her purse and she raised her eyes to see the hunters coming closer. It wasn’t a decision so much as a surety. This was what she did, what she could do for them. What she should have done the moment they met the hunters in the alley. If she hadn’t been distracted by Stiles. Hadn’t forgotten for a second what she was. 

She had the gun halfway out of her purse when a hand covered her own, yanking the cool metal from her grip. Lydia watched it raise in the air and fire twice so quickly she barely registered the pause between shots. Both hunters dropped like lifeless sacks of meat, hitting the pavement with a dull thud. 

Stiles lowered the gun without a word, turning to look at her and let out a stuttered breath. 

It had been like watch his father at the gun range. No hesitation. His actions had been like a reflex and his aim had been flawless. The Sheriff had said he believed that kids should be know how to handle a gun. It made sense he would have taught Stiles to shoot, but before now Lydia had never even heard Stiles mention guns, much less tell anyone he knew how to shoot one with flawless accuracy. 

They stared at each other, a strange moment of realization passing between them, both knowing what they were capable of and willing to do. Lydia felt a strange mixture of relief and sorrow: relieved to not be alone, and grief to see the look of horror on Stiles’ face when he realized he just killed two men.

“Derek!” Erica’s scream shattered the moment, and they were soon surrounded by the pack, who quickly swept them away from the scene in a flurry of shouting and moving bodies.

They piled into the back of Stiles’ Jeep, Scott shouting orders through his elongated teeth, glowing yellow eyes shining bright in the dark interior. Lydia and Stiles climbed into the front, and they were soon speeding off into the night. 

She could hear them shifting, whimpering in the back, but she didn’t dare look. They had their ways to help each other, and she knew that having the pack close made Derek stronger. Hopefully strong enough to heal. Alpha or not, no one walked away from three gunshots to the chest. 

Derek screamed, shrill and pained, like he was dying. Lydia tasted the tang of bile in the back of her throat and sharp stabbing pain behind her eyes. She wanted to run, wanted to get away from the sound and the feeling of nausea that was trying to crawl its way out of her stomach. 

“It’s going to be okay.” Stiles took hold of her hand in a tight grip and continued to stare out the windshield. 

Lydia watched his face. Underneath his determined expression his skin was pale and damp. He was not fooling her, and he wasn’t only talking to her, but she played along. For his sake. 

By the time they arrived at the loft Derek was talking. Well, he was mostly swearing and yelling at people to stop touching him, an order that everyone ignored while carrying him upstairs and into his bed. The pack surrounded him again, pressing themselves to any available part of his body. 

Stiles, Lydia and even Allison were pulled into the mix. It felt like they’ were swimming in a living, breathing hot skin and thundering heartbeats. When she emerged enough to breathe she was laid out beside Derek, Stiles pressed close to her back. It was stifling and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t stop staring at Derek’s bare chest. The smooth dark skin was crusted with blood, but it was whole and unwounded. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, looking ridiculously earnest, and suddenly a weight lifted off her chest in an explosive exhale that dragged a few tears out with it. 

Lydia brought down her hand with all of her strength and slapped him across the face. “Don’t ever do that again!” 

“I’d say she’s fine.” Stiles laughed in her ear.

“Yeah.” Derek smiled, taking hold of her, and shifted closer to cradle her in his arms. 

His arm slid around her waist, his hand resting between her back and Stiles’ chest. The group settled into a peaceful silence. 

After a few hours everyone began to leave. No one said anything about Stiles and Lydia staying behind. Scott talked to Stiles for a few private moments in the doorway. They hugged and Lydia noticed an exchange of glances between Derek and Scott. 

Derek had been saying for a long time that Scott was an Alpha, and Lydia hadn’t really bought it. Scott lacked so many qualities she believed a good leader needed. Tonight changed her mind. He had kept them together, taken care of Derek, and now he was making a clear threatening stare while Stiles walked back toward them. 

Turned out Scott wasn’t as oblivious as she thought. Judging by the way he glared at Derek while telling them to take care of his friend, there was no doubt he knew how the Alpha felt about Stiles. Lydia smiled to herself while Derek gave Scott a nod of acknowledgement and tilted his head to the side to show his throat. An unmistakable gesture of submission. Werewolves. 

Scott left with one last lingering look at Derek and a wink at Lydia before the door slid closed. The three of them returned upstairs, Stiles headed in the direction of the bathroom mumbling about having to piss. Lydia and Derek exchanged a silent look; they didn’t need to speak. He nodded and followed Stiles to the bathroom while she went to the bedroom to wait. 

The walls were paper thin and did nothing to cover the sound of Stiles’ retching. She sat on the bed, listening to Derek try to comfort him. Her hands splayed out on the blood stained bed sheets. 

“I killed them.” Stiles choked on the words, a wet, wretched sound. 

“You did what you had to do to protect yourself and Lydia.” Derek’s calm tone carried through the distance, but it brought her no comfort. 

“Doesn’t changed the fact that they’re dead,” Stiles said with a miserable sigh.

“No it doesn’t, but no one can change that.” Derek’s voice softened even more, and seemed muffled. 

Lydia stood up from the bed, tossed the comforter to the floor and began to strip the sheets. She tried to ignore how the blood had stained her hands pink. The bare mattress was free of stains and the sight of it allowed her to breathe a little easier. 

She walked into the hallway to get fresh sheets from the linen closet. The bathroom door was open a crack. She could see Derek’s back as he leaned against the basin. There was just enough space between the doorway and the curve of Derek’s waist to make out Stiles’ face in profile. 

“Why did you do that?” He was looking up at Derek, sounding steadier, more confident. 

“You would have died if I hadn’t.” Derek’s shoulders quickly rose and fell, but Lydia could see the muscles of his back working hard to make the gesture look casual. “Lydia would have killed me if I let you get hurt again.”

She expected Stiles to laugh at Derek’s obviously attempt at humor, but there was only silence for a long uncomfortable moment. Her shoulders ached from the tension gathering in her muscles as she waited for one of them to speak again.

“Do you love her?” Lydia was stunned; that was the last thing she’d ever expected Stiles to ask Derek. 

“What do you think?” The low tone of Derek’s voice had a thread of menace to it.

“That you’re dumb if you don’t.” Lydia could barely make out Stiles’ voice over the sound of the running water. 

There was a sharp squeak of the faucet being turned off, and Derek backed out of the doorway. He turned to look at Lydia and smiled. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew she was there the entire time. Werewolves.

“Neither one of us is that dumb,” Derek replied, and walked over to help her with the sheets, while Stiles watched them in silence. 

They remade the bed. Stiles tried to make an excuse to leave, but Derek merely grabbed him by the back of his neck and said “get in the bed or I throw you in.” 

Lydia was sandwiched between them again, Derek at her back while she pressed her face into Stiles’ chest. The smell of clean sheets surrounded her and lulled her into sleep. As she drifted into unconsciousness, she thought she heard Stiles say “thank you.”


End file.
